Looking for Salvation at the Dairy Queen by Susan Gregg Gilmore

Author:Susan Gregg Gilmore [Gilmore, Susan Gregg]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Humorous, Fiction, General, Psychological, Young women, Coming of Age, Ringgold (Ga.), Self-actualization (Psychology), City and town life
ISBN: 9780307395016
Publisher: Random House Digital, Inc.
Published: 2008-02-12T08:00:00+00:00

I always figured my Moses was going to be a strong, handsome man capable of parting an ocean with one hand, not some bald-headed bus driver with blobs of chocolate dripping down his shirt. But I guess there's no sense in questioning God's choice in saviors when you're making your way to the Promised Land.

Laura Lynn Cline picked me up at the Greyhound station just like she told Daddy she would. She had written my name on a piece of white cardboard and was holding it out in front of her chest so I'd know who she was. What a sad thing, I thought, needing a sign to find a girl who's got some of the very same blood running through her veins as is running through mine.

Turns out, I didn't need any old piece of cardboard. Laura Lynn was staring at me with those same steely blue eyes that can belong only to a Cline. Daddy said her great-granddaddy Merrill Otis and our great-granddaddy were brothers, but Laura Lynn said her mama told her that after William Floyd found the Lord, he never had much to do with his brother. They just figured William Floyd was too busy doing God's work to keep up with his family, especially considering Merrill Otis was a whiskey-drinking Methodist and all.

Laura Lynn had moved to Atlanta three or four years ago and was some kind of loan officer at the Peachtree Savings and Trust. I really didn't know what she did but she wore the same dark navy suit to work every single day. To tell the truth, I'd never seen a girl dress more like a man than she did, and except for that string of pearls hanging around her neck, you'd hardly know there was a woman inside that get-up. Laura Lynn said that's what all the professional women in Atlanta wear these days, and if I ever wanted to make something of myself, I better understand real quick that it's a man's world out there.

Actually my cousin didn't seem to like men much, except for Royce that is. She had gotten engaged back in the spring sometime, and her pending nuptials and her fiancé, Royce Randolph Duncan, III, were all she knew to talk about. She always said his name real slow like I was supposed to be impressed. So I called him Roy whenever Laura Lynn was around just to see her squint her little eyes and puff those cheeks out like some kind of African blowfish I'd seen in an old National Geographic.

Laura Lynn said that she and Royce were getting married at his mother's house over in Buckhead, some rich, fancy neighborhood in town. Since she and Royce didn't go to church much, she thought it more appropriate to get married in a house not belonging to the Lord. She also said that someday they would be the ones living in the big house in Buckhead.

They even went and hired themselves a caterer for the wedding reception.

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